


A Precious Material

by Burnadette_dpdl



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Rings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burnadette_dpdl/pseuds/Burnadette_dpdl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Have you decided on a ring, my love?”</i>
</p><p>Lestat pushes Louis towards acquiescing to their wedding. Louis has a better idea, a unique challenge for the evening. What's he trying to PROVE? Will Lestat accept the challenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Precious Material

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mumsisdaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mumsisdaughter), [Gairid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/gifts).



> This was written as a gift to my lovely friend @Mumsisdaughter for her birthday, and beta'd by another lovely friend (and one of my fave writers!) @Gairid (so it's a gift to that author here, as well!).
> 
> @Mumsisdaughter's prompt was, essentially: FLUFF. WEDDING. GIMME.

“ **Have you decided on a ring, my love?”**

“Not yet, none of these particularly appeal.” Louis answered somewhat listlessly, but politely. Mumsis & Daughters was a tasteful little family-owned jewelry store in the French Quarter where I had had custom pieces made for several years now. Louis sat before one of the cases fitted with cleverly concealed little lights, his face lit from below. The lights were meant to bring out the subtle variations of color in the gems, and his green eyes dazzled with the effect.

We were shopping for a wedding ring. Not that he had finally agreed to the entire concept. But I thought securing the ring might finally be the catalyst in his decision. Why not?

“Well we can’t have a wedding without it, so you’d better articulate what you want, they _can’t read your mind_ , you know.” I huffed, affecting a touch of mock impatience, drawing close behind him and clasping his slender shoulders. Letting my fingers spread out to feel the fabric move along his cold flesh. We would need to leave soon.

“Lestat, I don’t see why this is even necessary, you’ve given me countless rings over the years and as careful as we are they can get lost, or damaged- “

I began to sing quietly, my lips close to his ear. _“_ _If that diamond turns to brass, Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass..._ ” He shivered.

Louis turned away from the case to face me. “That’s the answer to everything, Buy another. Wedding rings aren’t meant to _need_ replacement, n’est-pas, ' _Mama'?”_

I considered for a moment. “Wow, I actually do not like being addressed as “Mama”… _”Daddy,”_ on the other hand -” I mused, chewing at my lower lip provocatively.

“Lestat.” Louis leaned back, getting into position for one of his signature sighs. I wouldn’t allow it. I quickly arranged myself on his lap and put my arms about his shoulders.

“Louis my _darling_. Let’s just get this done, okay? Tell me what metal we’re making the band from. Let’s start there.” I reached up and slipped my fingers into his hair, undoing the tie, laying the silken mass forward. Much better.

“I’m afraid it’s too precious a material.”

“What? No,” I shook my head. “I’m sure Kathryn here can acquire and work with any material we choose. These are _professionals_.”

“I'm more interested in the kind of ring I can't lose myself.”

I snorted. “And what kind is that? A _piercing?_ ” I grinned, purposely revealing the tips of my fangs for a fraction of a second.

He was unfazed. “Non. It's a very precious material. You may not be willing to provide it.”

“Ohmygod, Louis, spit it out! Platinum? Meteorite? _Adamantium?_ What material could possibly be too precious to give you?”

“Your hand. I just want your hand in mine. Still attached to your person, of course.”

I blinked at him. _“What?”_ I said. “What?”

“You heard me. Your hand. The left.”

“So, you just - want to hold hands at the altar? How pedestrian.” I fetched a sigh myself, rocking back and staring off into space, fruitlessly seeking a beautiful and inanimate distraction.

“It’s what I want. I want to see if we can just hold hands, for the duration of a whole night.”

“What are you trying to prove, here?” I made a stifled little groan, he wouldn’t elaborate, just studied me coquettishly. I looked at my nails. “That is in fact a precious material.” I locked eyes with him again, meeting his challenge. “What if I need it myself?”

“You have a spare.”

_And thus began a trial, in which for one night, the Vampire Lestat was obligated to hold hands with his beloved Louis the entire time._

...

 

It was a special delight to try to bring down a victim together, locked together as we were. Before we even had a chance to speak, the oaf’s gaze dropped to our linked hands and his filthy mouth unleashed a torrent of the most impressive combination of homophobic slurs, threats, and invective that I’d heard in some time, concluding with a very weak: “Y’all know thas' ILLEGAL up here'n N'awlins, FAGS!”

“Illegal? Suddenly you give a shit about the law? Is human trafficking LEGAL here'n N'awlins?! One last body for you to sell. YOURS _._ ” I said, as we bared our fangs and closed what little distance remained, attacking him together.

Now, I typically need both of my hands to catch, hold, and stimulate my writhing victim, but it was only a moment of doubt until I felt Louis open our clasped hands, still keeping several fingers linked together. It was no loss; there were effectively four hands working upon this vessel and when I sensed the victim’s arousal grow swiftly against my leg, I choked, had to laugh, spitting up blood in a coughing spray. Blood had come up and out of my nose first, and Louis pulled back delicately and let out peals of laughter at the whole thing, having “seen” the little prick rise. And my face, comically half-painted in red. Perhaps the man had wanted to switch teams after all! Then again, perhaps so could any straight man under the dual pressure of the pair of us. Fortunately, our dinner was unconscious by the time I made my failure in murder etiquette. I rearranged my position to avoid his still-hard little member, and we finished him off like proper vampires, still snorting laughter now and then.

When the body had been taken care of, Louis drew me in for a chaste kiss, the blood cool but still a wet slick on my face. “You’ll attract attention with all that ‘makeup’…” He said, eyes lingering on mine, then began to lick it clean. “Let me take care of it…”

Too much. Almost painful to hold still and let him do it, here in the shadows, pressed against a wall. The scratch of his tongue burning along my cheek, jawline... to give in to the clawing creature inside that wanted to ravish him for this would absolutely break the fragile moment. For once, I willed myself to relax and let him have the silence he often craves from me.

Meandering back to the flat, I couldn’t sling my arm around him the way I liked with our hands joined this way, but swinging our arms lazily was pleasant enough. Every so often I gave him a playful shove with my hip or shoulder, and he pushed back, his lips curving into a smile. About a mile from home and he had my arm hooked around his far shoulder, with his hand still in mine, his arm crossed over his body to get the configuration, a closer embrace than we normally would have had. After all these years, I marveled that we still found new ways to fit together.

When we reached the door I insisted on carrying him over the threshold as my “bride,” but even then, the only resistance from him was the refusal to release my hand. I wanted to carry him physically, so I knelt down and he set himself on my back, his knees wrapped tight against my sides. It was only a few steep steps up, then through the entryway, a little twirl in the foyer. A simple gesture, to carry him across the threshold, but I’d never done so before, and it was better than I’d imagined.

...

Stripping out of my blood-soaked clothes presented the opportunity for him to simply tear them off, which he did with sensual flair. Disrobing him proved more difficult since he intended on keeping his clothes intact, so he allowed us to clasp the “spare” hands briefly. We stepped into the shower and cranked it to an inhuman temperature, and tended to each other with care.

Keep in mind that allowing me to undress him was a special kind of treat, as was sharing a shower with him, and to have both in one evening, plus the facial I'd received earlier, well, it was near enough to reduce me to a sobbing puddle of bliss at his feet. But then again, puddles can't hold hands, can they?

...

Without verbal discussion, we opted to climb into bed nude to avoid the difficulty of dressing in our predicament. Heated from the blood and the shower, our flesh pliant, it was all simply luxurious. I rose up, caressing him with my free hand. The other was tight, pinning his hand above him, and I strained at the slightly awkward position, dipping down for a kiss.

"Do you want to let go now?" He asked softly. Was he gnawing at his lip? He was definitely doing that.

Looking into his eyes, it was as if the jewelry shop lighting was once more upon him. It was no trick of the light this time, however, just the sweetness of my Louis nestled under me, invitingly, eyes alight as they had been the first night we met.

"Never." I said.

We were still holding hands when the death sleep took us. I know this because there is photographic evidence, taken by our loyal companion. In the picture, Louis and I face each other, tangled limbs, and our two clasped hands folded neatly between us.

 


End file.
